


Axes and Ohs

by mixedwithintellect



Series: Saint Nicholas Verse [7]
Category: Don't Let Me Go - Harry Styles (Song), Kiwi - Harry Styles (Song), Medicine - Harry Styles (Song), One Direction (Band), Sweet Creature - Harry Styles (Song)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 19:14:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15978674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixedwithintellect/pseuds/mixedwithintellect
Summary: the one where Harry’s masculinity is validated, Y/N is a needy hoe and adores herself for it, and once again Nick is left to make everything magically work out.(Harry throwing an axe 100% is the inspiration xoxo)





	Axes and Ohs

The group chat wasn’t the same after the BBC show aired. 

Y/N was horrendously offended they hadn’t invited her (because that was her fucking  _day off_ and they had known it, couldn’t the producers cut out the footage with her anyway?) and was relentlessly switching between passive-aggressively bringing it up and directly informing her boys she was going to ignore them “for the rest of 4ever”. That wouldn’t last long, though, but Y/N felt they weren’t grasping her overall point.

Harry usually replied with “:-(“s and Nick would send memes from 2008. They weren’t very respectful, she felt. Although she was  _mostly_  teasing, there was a bit of offense that they hadn’t thought to invite her. Work had been cluttering up her mind for the majority of the week, and she often called Nick at night so they could rant to each other about everything. Cheaper than a therapist, they had both figured. So, Nick knew how stressed she had been, how it bogged down her mind and kept her up at night. How deadlines swarmed against her skull and kept her fingers itching for more work, to get more done. And Nick had promised to organize something, so they could all do something together, and Y/N’s left to find out that him and Harry hung out without her? It’s like Snapchat but worse, because the whole world saw it and was constantly tagging her in the photos.

Her boys eventually decided it would be a nice surprise to bring her to an ax-throwing range, to get her to shut up, and to show what lovely people they were. A quality compromise.

She was pleased with their invitation, even apologizing quietly for her texts, which they readily forgave (because she’s never seriously angry, and Nick more so laughed than got offended by her threats). 

(Harry had taken her seriously after the first text and had called her up immediately, asking quietly in a confused tone if she was OK. Once he found out that yeah, she was fine, she was just thriving off of being difficult as a temporary coping mechanism, he started waving her off.)

And things seemed to be going well, Harry had even made a quick Road Trip playlist for the hour ride out to the range. Nick was the driver, his elbow against the window and his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Harry was in the passenger seat, rattling off most of the conversation (fairly talkative guy sometimes, once he had enough coffee).

Y/N was in the back, her legs laying out on the seat next to her, her back slouched against the door, ignoring Nick’s reminders to “don’t be an idiot, Y/N, buckle the fuck up” and tossing trail mix every so often at Harry’s hair. Popcorn was the easiest to get caught in his locks, and his grumbling “ _Hey, stop tha’”_  as he brushed his fingers through his curls didn’t do much to quell her desire for entertainment.

It was when they were at the range that things start to feel different. The instructions made her nervous. She was never one to have graceful coordination to begin with, and the instructor was extraordinarily patient with her questions. Harry and Nick were goofing around by the edges of the facility, pretending to trip and land on their axes, feeling fairly adequate in their abilities since they had done it before.

* * *

Y/N thinks she’s pretty sane. She’s seen those pictures of the clown from IT all over the Internet – the one people are kinky-into? And yeah, no, she’s proper  _not_  into that. At all. Zero percent. Murderers are  _not_  gonna get it, even in cool sneakers.

But, there’s something disturbingly obscene about Harry with an ax. It was attractive in a completely indecent sense. How serious he became, when it was in his hands, how the light danced against his cheek, against the tip of the ax. How he lined it up so carefully, his eyebrows coming together and his tongue poking through his lips in concentration, his Adam’s apple shifting as he focused. 

It was quite different from Nick, who was tossing the blunted objects like he didn’t have a care in the world. Y/N was stupefied they hadn’t been removed from the facility yet. To his credit, Nick was trying to make Y/N less nervous, because she hadn’t even  _tried_  to throw one yet and they’d been there for half an hour. It wasn’t working, obviously.

He felt bad, he truly did, that she had felt so alone lately. Things at her work were stressful, especially since she was fighting against some sexist pricks near the top of the cooperation ladder. He had offered to bring an ax with him, next time he dropped off flowers at the front desk (because he knew that it made Y/N’s whole week), but she had flat-out said no.

Y/N didn’t want to use her rom-com knowledge to advance a particular agenda, but she rationalized that this was an activity she genuinely wanted to get better at. Build up some strength and improve her aim - quality goals. Asking a friend for help was normal, she reckoned. And Harry was taking it more seriously than Nick, so it would be logical to ask  _him_ , over her friend who was on his phone, ax held between his thighs.

“H? Could you help me a bit? Can’t get the angle to feel right,” Y/N pointed the ax somewhat at the target, loosening her wrists to keep the ax dangly. Harry quirked his eyebrows at her, his serious expression breaking a bit when he saw how poorly she was doing.

Pete, the instructor who had been hovering around Y/N’s station since the second they arrived, began to raise his hand. Presumably to offer assistance, if his wide eyes and blushing cheeks were a sign, but it just so happened that at that exact moment, Nick dropped an ax on his foot. It was the handle, mind you, but it still led to Nick’s profane slur of choice words to slit the air.

“Fuck, my foot! It’s gone! Agh,  _ah_ , shit, damn,  _motherfucker_ , ugh, uhhhhhh,  _wow_ , wowzers,  _help_ , ouchie,” Nick yelped, each onomatopoeia becoming increasingly louder. He grasped onto his ankle firmly and jumped on one foot, hobbling a bit towards the edge of the premise.

Pete had no option but to follow Nick, to talk him down to quit moving so much in order for the employee to get a proper look at the ankle. Nick kept a watchful eye on his friends a few feet over, though, and only dropped his foot when Harry had made his way next to Y/N.

(Funnily enough, Harry and Y/N hadn’t even noticed Nick, they were so wrapped up in their pretense and drama.)

So, Harry cleared his throat and nodded at Y/N, putting down his own ax. He stepped directly behind her, and perhaps it was her wistful imagination but she thought she felt the warmth radiate from his chest to her back. His arms went around hers, hugging against her shoulders and his fingertips grazing against her knuckles. Y/N was painfully aware of how close his lips were to her left ear. 

It was one of those fantasies in her mind she couldn’t turn off, it just began in her mind. It was a continuous loop of one question, of how it would feel like if he leaned in a bit more. If he gently tugged at her ear with his teeth, his arms grazing back up her arms, closer to her body, before down her sides. How would it feel for him to move down her neck, his breath hitching quietly, nipping softly at the skin. And what bothered her the most, was that all these fantasies began when she saw him holding an ax. How fucking rude.

Truthfully, his lips were far enough for it to not seem weird, but in her state of mind Y/N was bound to exaggerate things to herself. Harry had riled her up, and it only grew increasingly more hot under her jumper when she was surrounded by his cologne again.

“Alright, love, let’s see what yeh got,” he was murmuring, and Y/N almost choked on air, before managing to make it a half-cough. She was unsure of what to say, really, so she sort of cleared her throat, a bigger cough, and moved her feet slightly, her ankles bumping against Harry’s toes. His fingers drifted down to align her elbows more, straightening them out to properly inspect the angle.

“Do I just…” she gestured towards the target with her chin, feeling completely uncoordinated and at a loss of how to move. Even less so than before, because at least she had oxygen when Harry was 10 feet away.

“Shhh, give me a mo’.” and he moved her hand to line up the ax better. “Here, yeh see how the target’s lining up with the point, right there?” Y/N nodded, giving a little ‘mhm’, frankly not seeing a difference at all, before turning her head towards him.

A bit of a mistake, though, because her lips grazed his cheek before he had registered what had happened; he was more focused on helping Y/N out than where her face was. 

Harry had been feeling a bit smug, in the way that simultaneously annoyed him, because Y/N was asking for his help, yeah? She wanted him to show her how it was done, because she knew he could do it. It was intoxicating in a boyish manner, that Y/N was asking him for help.

She leaned her head back a bit, moving her lips farther away. The air didn’t feel intimate or sexy to her right then, just awkward and a rush of blood in her ears.

Harry took a step away, biting back a smile as he gestured to the target.

“Go fo’ it.”

“Well, I just…could you…could you do it, once more? Just so I could see,” she held out the ax to Harry, eyebrows coming together in frustration. She had originally asked Harry for help because the selfish part of her heart wanted her to  _hurt_ , hurt deep. But she also didn’t want to make a fool of herself. The concerns that had led her to that moment had a foundation of genuity – Y/N had no clue what was going on.

Harry smirked, which made Y/N huff a bit because  _yes_ , she accepted he was good, but that was no reason to be a lil dick-shit about it.

He obliged, moving forward and taking the ax from her hands. In the split-second between the transfer over, she almost dropped it (Harry shouldn’t have been so slow, in her defense) and Harry had to stumble forward to catch it properly. Y/N laughed a bit, mumbling apologies, when Harry shot her a faux-upset look.

Without a word, he stepped in front of her to line it up carefully, like how he was doing when Y/N was subtly checking him out. Taking a step forward, and pursing his lips a ridiculous amount, Harry threw the ax. Y/N gulped when she could practically  _see_  his back muscles against his shirt. How the fuck did he gain those, being so tiny and cute? Y/N felt, not for the first time, offended by Harry Styles’ existence.

The ax hit the bulls-eye.

Even Nick cheered, from the sidelines, from where he was forcing Pete to bring out the special gauze wrap for his foot. Might even see if he could finagle some crutches outta the establishment, hobble out and get loads of sympathy from his two besties. Y/N clapped loudly, letting out a whoop; several of the other people at the establishment yelled Harry on, as well.

“Nicely done, Styles,” she told him as he sauntered back over to her, his ego pleasantly padded with success.

“I’m a natural,” he sang, and his smile seemed to take up most of his eyes, his eyes crinkling a bit. It was Y/N’s favorite smile of his (not that she had one, no way - but she 100% did). She grinned softly back, turning her face.

“Have you done it before, yeah? Been an expert for a while, I’m guessing,” Y/N mused, half-attempting to get away from having to try it herself, half-enjoying seeing him flush with glee.

“Oh, loads. Ax-murderer, that’s me,” he solemnly agreed, before a giggle came over his lips. He was on an adrenaline rush, it seemed, a small one but enough to keep his fingers moving against his hair, pulling slightly at the roots.

“Dunno if I could kill someone, honest,” he continued, almost seriously considering the possibility, “Think if it came to it, I’d fuck somethin’ up. Trip or whatever. Can’t even get a juice open proper, dunno how I’d do with a knife.”

“No one was talking about  _knives_  Harry, just axes. My god, you deeply concern me.” Y/N shook her head, shifting her gaze down towards the ax  _she_  was supposed to throw. Just as her fingers wrapped back around the wooden base of it, however, Pete walked up to the couple.

“Um, I’m sorry, but we had to ask your friend to leave? He’s not using the equipment properly, safety hazard,” and he shifted his stare between Harry and Y/N, his hands wringing each other and his bangs sweaty against his forehead.

“Oh shit,” Harry mumbled, reaching in his back pocket to draw out his phone. Sure enough, Nick had blown up the group chat with false allegations against the ax-range, complaining that Harry and Y/N were so wrapped up in each other they had forgotten him, how he felt like he was a child again left behind on the playground, and that axes were for babies anyway and they should try flame throwers next.

“Fuck,” Y/N agreed, before beginning her round of apologies to Pete. Not that she had to apologize for Nick frequently, but in the past there had been enough wild times for Y/N to have some memorized rambles of “sorry”s and “so sorry”s. Pete seemed okay enough, his sad eyes lingering on Y/N more than what either Harry or Y/N were comfortable with, so they left rather quickly.

* * *

The two of them walked out towards the garage, where Nick supposedly was waiting with his one crutch (he had grabbed one before making a run for it) and gauzed-foot. Y/N had her jacket bundled up under one arm, and Harry had his underneath his own. The sun had come out and the afternoon was pleasantly warm - Y/N thought about lowering the windows for the ride back.

Not much could explain it. The feelings had been there for whole afternoon, and Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on how to vocalize what he wanted to say. So, shifting his jacket to rest underneath his other arm, his fingers simply reached over to Y/N’s. They intertwined with hers, gently enough for her to pull away if she wanted. Although, for the sake of the hour-long ride home, Harry hoped she wouldn’t. It was (hopefully) casual enough to pass off for friends, but he couldn’t just walk back and do  _nothing_  about how fucking adorable she had looked, confused and dazed, surrounded by axes and loud, brash cheers.

Y/N was a bit surprised, to say the least, about how they had gone from throwing axes to holding hands. His was warm, although not clammy  _thank goodness_ , and she couldn’t help but notice the dimples that poked through when she tightened her grip. And maybe her own showed, a tiny bit, but who was looking? (Harry. Harry was looking.)

“What are you doing, Haz?” and she laughed quietly, her lower chest tightening a bit and her heart’s speed picking up.

“Just don’t want yeh seeing me as some ax-throwing madman, gotta remind yeh how much of a softie I am,” he replied easily, and if Y/N weren’t so caught up in her own emotions it would have been embarrassingly clear that he had mentally rehearsed those words, crafted his excuse to feel her hand in his.

And so they walked, back to the car, hand-in-hand, each of them stewing in their own thoughts. Perhaps they would excuse their actions, their thoughts and fantasies, by the time Nick dropped off Y/N late that night and drove Harry home. They could say it was just something in the air, something about getting away from the stress of the city. But what ended up staying in both of their minds, when it neared midnight and they were trying to draft out a casual text to the other person - was the multitude of shy smiles they shot at each other, walking back to the car, giddy off of axes and Nick being an idiot.


End file.
